The hollow in the ridges
Carefully described by years
Carving the rocks to create
Gossip in the lavender,
Laughter in the early hay,
Face to high clouds, back to earth,
An alert and wary grasp
In the outer air, the need
For here humming everywhere
On the first noon of autumn,
The beech tree in the meadow
That reveals a softer shade
In the shadow of a stone.
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